Behind Closed Doors
by TunaEveryNight
Summary: Inspired by the Cold Opening of 7x20, "Michael's Last Dundies." Spoilers for that.
1. And When We Get Behind Closed Doors

He hesitantly opened one eye and tried to gauge the time of morning by the brightness of the sunlight streaming through the blinds. He heard the soft whirring of the ceiling fan and the heavy, snuffling breaths being transmitted over the baby monitor. For now, the house was still and quiet. He lifted his head and glanced at the bright red numbers of the alarm clock. _6:14. _Just over a year ago, he would have considered this an ungodly hour to be awake on a Saturday morning but now that he was the father of a constantly curious, incredibly mobile toddler, his opinion had changed drastically.

He rolled onto his side and nearly collided into her. They usually fell asleep wrapped around one another in the middle of the bed but Jim often rolled onto his back as he slept and Pam had a habit of wiggling further and further back until she was pressed completely against him. He occasionally teased her about being a bed hog but he secretly loved her need to be as close to him as possible...even if it meant waking up on the very edge of the bed on more than one occasion.

He slid one arm beneath his pillow, shivering at the coolness he found there, and wrapped his other arm snuggly around her torso. His hips pressed against the soft curve of her ass and she instinctively nestled against his heat; he clutched at her hip and moaned softly, feeling himself harden against her. He pushed his knees against the toned flesh of her calves and allowed his hand to slip beneath the edge of her camisole. No matter how many times he had held her, made love to her and slept with his body curled around hers, he never stopped marveling at how perfectly their bodies fit together. As if they were two incomplete halves that were only whole when he was buried completely, blissfully inside of her.

He pressed a soft, delicate kiss against her shoulder and drew his hand in small circles across her stomach, slowly moving further upwards with each rotation of his palm. He had always enjoyed making love to her first thing in the morning; she was slow to wake and often a little disoriented when she was first roused from sleep but he would hold her firmly against him to ensure that she felt safe and use his talented hands and insatiable tongue to slowly pull her body from slumber.

After the tentative awkwardness of their first few times together, he'd discovered that she was a deeply passionate and sensual lover who never failed to drive him out of his mind with lust. But the mornings were different. He liked to make love to her when she was barely awake and her body responded to his ministrations much quicker than her mind did. The sounds she made were quieter and her movements more instinctual. It was a moment of pure physical expression and he loved that even when she was barely conscious, she was still so genuinely, completely open to everything he had to give her.

But just over a year ago, their precious bundle of joy had been born and quickly changed every aspect of their lives. Including their love life. Now, the mornings were their favorite time of day to make love for many reasons...not the least of which was the fact that their darling daughter was sound asleep and they were not completely exhausted from their crazy work environment and the everyday stresses of providing for and raising a toddler.

Jim Halpert loved absolutely everything about being a father; it was the most important and most rewarding job he had ever been given and he never once took it for granted. But sometimes he just wanted a few moments to enjoy his wife. A few moments to be _them _in the best way they knew how.

His hand slid further up and cupped her breast; he weighed the warm heaviness of it in his palm and felt her shift against him. She was beginning to wake but he could tell she was struggling against it. He would have to make it worth her while. He placed a trail of soft, wet kisses along the edge of her neck until he reached her earlobe. He sucked the soft lobe into his mouth and nipped it lightly. His fingers began to circle her nipple and he teased and rubbed it into a harden peak. She whimpered the smallest protest but rolled onto her back and gently parted her legs.

"Good morning, Sunshine," he whispered against her ear, his voice rough and gravely with sleep.

"Mmmmm," she grumbled. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and her face was turned away from his but he could feel her slowly waking up.

He raised himself onto his knees and carefully removed her panties before settling between her legs. He gently pushed up her nightshirt and cupped both of her breasts in his large hands.

His tongue circled the delicate silkiness of her nipple before he lowered his whole mouth over it. He pulled away slowly and watched it pucker into a hardened peak. The air in their bedroom was chilly and he knew the contrasting temperatures heightened the sensations she felt.

"Jim," she sighed quietly. If he hadn't been hovering above her, he probably wouldn't have been able to hear it.

"Yes, love?" he teased. His tongue reached out to flick at her other nipple and she whimpered quietly. "Did you need something?"

"Umph," she huffed. If there was one thing he knew about his wife, it was that she was not a morning person. While she gave as good as she got during the rest of the day, she did not enjoy being teased so early in the morning. Which only made it that much more fun.

His mouth closed around her nipple and he suckled it firmly. She arched her back and pressed her hips into his. He knew she could feel him hard and ready against her. Knew she could feel how much he wanted her.

"Please, Jim," she whispered, pushing lightly on his shoulder.

"Mmm," he moaned. She had yet to open her eyes but her hips were slowly grinding against him. "Please what?" he asked coyly. The way she was pushing against his shoulders and writhing her hips told him exactly what she wanted. But he wanted to hear her say it.

"Your mouth," she whined. He pushed her breasts together and immediately sucked her nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it with a hard, steady rhythm.

"No," she murmured, moving her hips in time with the suction of his lips. "Please, Jim."

He abruptly released her nipple with a small popping sound. "Oh, I'm sorry," he teased. "Is that not what you wanted?"

"Ugh," she groaned tossing her head against the pillow.

"Maybe you should be more specific?" he said, lowering his mouth to her breast once again.

"Jim, please," she begged. She pushed her hips against him and he could feel her wetness through the thin cotton of his boxers. "Lick me," she whispered.

_Fuck. _Even half asleep, she could still say things that made his dick throb.

He quickly shimmied his way down her body and carefully spread her legs further apart. He pressed a long, lingering kiss high on the inside of her thigh and felt her muscles quiver beneath his tongue. He nuzzled her folds and deeply inhaled the warm, earthy scent of her sex. God, he loved going down on her. When he was between her legs, he was immersed in her scent, surrounded by her juices, completely enveloped in her arousal. He loved to feel her swell and ripen for him as his tongue and fingers slowly brought her to an intense, shuddering orgasm.

He gently ran his tongue between her lips and lightly circled her entrance, allowing his tongue to dip inside for just a moment. She was warm and wet and ready and he wanted to feel her come against his tongue so badly he could barely think straight. She shifted her hips and drew her leg up at the knee, opening herself even wider.

"Yes," she moaned.

He slowly slid his longest finger inside of her as far as it would go and she moaned at the sensation. _Shit. So tight._He lowered his lips to her clit and kissed it softly, feeling her hips twitch beneath him. He lightly touched his tongue to the bundle of nerves and stroked it back and forth very softly. Once he felt her increasing wetness, he slowly withdrew his finger. His mouth closed fully around her clit and he suckled it gently as he slid two fingers inside of her and dragged them against her inner walls in way that made her toes curl.

"Oh," she moaned, sounding decidedly more breathless than she had just a few moments ago. She dropped her hands in his hair and pushed against his head lightly. "More," she whined.

He released her clit and begin to flick his tongue against it in hard, short strokes while he quickly crooked his fingers inside of her. Her hips began to buck against his mouth and he wrapped his free arm beneath her waist and pulled her as close to his mouth as he could.

"Oh, God," she whimpered. "Feels so, so good."

She was rarely talkative first thing in the morning but sometimes..._sometimes _the ache between her thighs would chase away all of her inhibitions and he would use his nimble tongue to coax the dirtiest, filthiest things from her mouth. He slowed the movements of his fingers and hummed lightly against her clit; the vibrations shot through her pelvis and she made the sexiest little mewling sounds. She fisted her hands in his hair and tugged at it lightly.

"More," she rasped. "Please, Jim. More."

She was quivering against his fingers and he really, really wanted to feel those wet, silken walls against his cock. He thought about plunging himself deep inside of her and just...fucking her senseless...but he quickly decided that hearing her beg for release would be much, _much _more fun.

He drew himself up on his elbow and slowly removed his fingers, promptly sucking them into his mouth and tasting her arousal. She whimpered once again and twitched her hips, desperate for contact. He placed the very tip of his middle finger on her clit and stroked it with swift, feather-light strokes. It provided an intense sensation that quickly drove her to the brink but she'd never been able to come from that alone. He knew that, of course. And she knew that he knew it.

"Oh, God," she muttered, her face contorting into a grimace. "Please."

"Please what?" he teased.

"Please," she begged. "Touch me."

"Hmm," he hummed, dipping his head for just a moment and running his tongue quickly over her clit. She moaned loudly. "I am touching you."

"No," she whined, "I need more. Please. I just...I _need _you," she whispered.

She must have been closer than he thought. She didn't usually give in so quickly. But he wasn't quite ready for this game to be over.

"Oh, yeah?" he breathed against her skin; he traced her hipbone with his tongue and she clutched at his shoulders. "How bad do you want it?" he asked.

"So bad," she moaned. "Please, babe. I'm so close. I need you to make me come. _Please_."

_Jesus, that was hot._

He thrusts his fingers deep inside of her and took her entire clit in his mouth. His tongue laved against her mercilessly and his fingers pumped into her at a steady, relentless pace.

"Oh, god," she panted, writhing against his mouth. "Yes. _Yes_."

He felt her inner walls begin to quiver and knew she was only moments away from orgasm.

Suddenly, a loud knock echoed through the house.


	2. She Makes Me Glad I'm a Man

Suddenly, a loud knock echoed through the house.

"The hell?" he bolted upright, quickly disentangling himself from her body.

Her eyes flew open for the first time that morning and she fumbled for the sheet. "What was that?" she gasped.

"Somebody's at the door," he rushed out, quickly pulling on an old pair of pajama pants and desperately trying to locate a t-shirt. Hadn't he been wearing one last night? Where had he tossed it?

"What time is it?" she asked frantically. Her cheeks were flushed and she still hadn't caught her breath. _Jesus_, he thought, this better be a fucking emergency. And why couldn't whoever was at the door have waited two more fucking minutes? Christ.

"It's early," he gave up trying to find his shirt and simply pulled a new one from his drawer. "Just stay in bed. I'll be right back."

He heard a second knock, this one louder than the first, and cursed. It was a miracle that Cece had slept through the first knock but she most certainly wouldn't sleep through any more and no matter what happened when he answered the door, if Cece woke up all chances of finishing this would be shot to hell. And the ache between his legs _really_did not want that to happen.

"Do you want me to come with you?" she asked in a worried tone.

"No. Seriously," he rasped, pulling the shirt over his head and making his way into the hallway. "Stay in bed."

He rushed down the stairs and yanked the door open, squinting against the bright morning sunlight

"Surprise!"

"Congratulations!"

_Jesus. Fucking. Christ._ You have _go t_to be kidding.

Michael, Deangelo, and a camera man. Standing on his front stoop, holding two cheaply framed certificates and smiling like loons. While his half-naked wife waited upstairs in their warm bed on the brink of orgasm and his baby girl was, quite possibly, waking up at this very moment.

"Yep," he husked, shaking his head in frustration. "Okay."

"You and Pam have both been nominated for Dundie Awards!" Michael bellowed in his very best game show host voice. A voice Jim had seen him practice in the men's room one too many times. He and Deanglo angled the certificates towards the camera and Jim was suddenly aware that his thin pajama pants weren't doing much to hide his still-present erection. He _seriously _did not need his early morning hard-on caught on film for the entire world to see.

"Yep," he muttered, quickly grabbing the awards and angling them as discreetly as possible in front of his crotch while Michael fumbled with his digital camera. Perfect. He could already picture the slide show. The worn out t-shirt he was almost certain he was wearing backwards, a massive case of bed head and him desperately clutching a Dundies nomination in front of his pajamas. _Fantastic_.

"Have Pam come down," Michael thrilled excitedly.

Yeah. That's what he'd do. Go upstairs and tell his practically naked, horny as hell wife to get dressed and come downstairs so she could graciously accept her Dundies nomination. _Nomination! _Not even the actual fucking award. Maybe Michael and Deanglo could come in for breakfast and he and Pam could bustle around their tiny kitchen making coffee and pancakes while Michael played peek-a-boo with Cece after she most assuredly woke up from all the damn commotion. And the stupid camera man could film the whole fucking thing.

Yep. _Not happening_.

"No, no," he rushed out quickly. "She's not here." He slowly backed into the foyer as Michael fiddled with his camera.

"What's going on?" Pam called down from the stairs.

"Stay in bed," he answered a little more forcibly than he had intended, praying that she wouldn't come down to investigate.

"Wait! Jim," Michael asked excitedly. "Can we get a photo of the whole family? You, Me, Pam and Cece? And the Dundie nominations," he pointed towards the certificates. "That'd be an awesome picture for the newsletter."

"Ooh. Family values!" Deangelo agreed enthusiastically.

"Oh, you know...normally, I would say yes but Cece's still asleep," he said easing further and further into the house. "In fact, I should really go check on her."

"Can I come with you?" Michael asked. "I haven't seen her in like...a week. Is she talking, yet? Has she said my name?"

"Oh! Um," he eyes widened in alarm and he tried to think of anything..._anything_...to get rid of the three men standing at his front door. "What about the nominations?" he suddenly remembered. "I'm sure you still have a bunch left to give out and you probably want to do that while it's still early and you can," he eyes drifted to the stairwell and he grimaced slightly, "...surprise...everyone."

"Well, that's true," Deanglo agreed. "We probably should get going. Lots of houses to visit."

"You, sir, are correct as always." Michael concurred amicabally. "We have a lot of nominations to present. A lot of dreams to make come true. Oh, but hey, Jim...call me later if you want to hang out or something. Maybe we can go out and celebrate. Or maybe we can even..."

Jim quickly closed and locked the front door and shoved the certificates on the table in the hallway. He deftly made his way up the stairs, mindful of the squeaky floorboard on the second to last stair, and stopped outside of Cece's room. He pressed his ear to her door and listened. Silence. He breathed a sigh of relief and made his way into the bedroom. Pam was sitting in the middle of the bed...but still thankfully _in _the bed...with the sheets bunched around her waist.

"Who was it?" she asked in a worried voice.

"Michael," he answered irritably as he eased the bedroom door shut.

"Michael?"

"And Deanglo. They were here to surprise us with our Dundies Nominations."

"Are you serious?" she exclaimed.

"Yep," he answered, shucking his t-shirt and crawling onto the bed. "At six thirty on a Saturday morning."

"Ugh," she groaned. "What's the point of even being nominated when everyone in the company gets a stupid award, anyway?"

"I have no idea," he murmured as he pulled the covers away from her and placed a kiss against her jaw. "But there are other things that I would much rather do than discuss this year's Dundie Awards."

"Mmm," she titled her head back and closed her eyes to better enjoy his kisses. "Such as?"

His teeth lightly nipped at her throat and she moaned softly, "Well, I'm pretty sure I was about to rock your world before we were so rudely interrupted," he whispered against her skin.

"Oh, really?" she chuckled. "Pretty confident there, Halpert."

"Well, I'm pretty amazing at what I do so...," he gently nudged her with his shoulder and she laid back against the pillows.

"Amazing, huh?" she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a long, wet kiss.

"Yep," he husked, working his hands beneath the hem of her nightshirt for the second time that morning. "I'd be happy to demonstrate if you'd like."

"Maybe you should lose those pants," she gasped as his talented hands molded around her breasts.

He immediately rolled onto his back and shoved both his pants and his boxers off his legs and tossed them unceremoniously onto the floor. He placed his arms on either side of her body and arranged himself above her. He hovered there, naked and unabashedly aroused as her eyes roamed his body and her saucy smile told him that she definitely appreciated the view.

"I don't know," she mused, running her fingers lightly down his toned chest creating a trail of goosebumps, "You were certainly asking a lot of questions before. I'm not really sure you know how to rock my world," she teased.

"Oh, I would respectfully disagree," he argued coyly, "I just wanted detailed instructions to ensure I gave you _exactly _what you wanted."

"Well, how about instead of telling you what I want," she hooked her leg around his hips and quickly rolled them until she was on top of him, "I just show you what I want."

"Mmm," he pulled her hips tightly against his and bucked against the wetness he found there. "That sounds promising. I've always been more of a visual learner anyway."

She giggled lightly as she bent over and kissed his chest, teasing his skin with her lips and tongue. His hands snaked beneath her shirt and he splayed his large palms over her ass, massaging her flesh and pulling her tighter against him.

"Jesus," he moaned, his eyelids heavy with lust. "I want you so bad."

She placed a soft kiss on his lips and gently sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. His hips pushed into hers once again and she responded in kind. "Maybe I should make _you _beg for it," she retorted.

"I'll beg if you want me to," he pleaded breathlessly. "I'd do anything for you, Pam. You know that. Anything you wanted. I'm yours."

She gave him a small, smug smile, knowing that she had won. When it came to him, she always won. And he was more than okay with that.

"But what do _you _want?" she asked, grinding against him in a way that made his eyes roll back into his head.

"God, _you_," he rasped. "Always you. You _own _me."

"Kiss me," she demanded, her voice hoarse with desire.

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her into a searing, passionate kiss.

She pulled back slightly and grasped him in her hand. His cock was deep red with engorgement and seeing her delicate, porcelain hand wrapped around it...stroking and squeezing and driving him _out of his mind_...was almost too much to bear.

"Pam," he gasped. "Please. I'm not going to last if you keep doing that."

She smiled at him lovingly. Beautifully. And slowly guided him to her wet folds.

_Fuck_. She was _so_ wet. And tight and swollen with arousal and just..._everything _he had ever wanted.

He watched as she carefully lowered herself on his erection. She always had to go slowly when she was on top in order to accommodate his size and the look of painstaking concentration on her face never failed to make him even harder. When he was finally, _fully _inside of her, she kissed him gently on the mouth.

He ran his hands softly up her thighs, grasping her hips in his hands. She arched her back and grabbed the hem of her nightshirt, slowly pulling it off of her body and tossing it carelessly onto the carpet.

"God, you're beautiful," he gasped, surprised at her boldness.

Since the last trimester of her pregnancy, she had become self-conscious about her body and rarely displayed herself so blatantly in the bright light of day. He found her beautiful, of course, and he thought the last few pounds of baby-weight that she'd retained had settled in _all _the right places but she often felt shy about revealing herself so completely and, wanting her to be comfortable, he rarely asked her to.

She began to move slowly, languidly up and down his length. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and she panted softly. She had been close to orgasm before and he knew that despite her leisurely pace it would not be long before she finished. His hands moved to her breasts and she shivered when he ran his thumbs across her nipples.

She placed her hands on each side of his torso and hunched her back slightly, holding her weight on her palms and sliding all the way off his length before slowly sinking back down. She did this again and again, never taking him in any further past the head of his cock. He knew she preferred shallow strokes when she was close; her angled position and the thickness of his tip hit her in _just _the right place when she moved like this. But as much as he loved having her in control, the sight of her, writhing completely naked on top him...her skin glowing in the early morning light and her mouth parted delicately, was more than he could bear and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. He dropped his hand between them and lightly, carefully stroked his thumb against the place where she needed it the most.

"Oh," she cried out a little too loudly, throwing her head back and fisting her hand against her lips. The unexpected sensation threw off her balance and she suddenly sank deeply, _completely _on top of him. They both groaned at the added contact and her rhythm quickly picked up speed. She lifted her hips and plunged back down on top of him, grinding herself at the base of his erection while his fingers furiously rubbed her clit.

"Oh, God," she gasped. "I'm close. I'm so close..."

He quickly pushed himself up and wrapped his arm around her waist, taking her breast in his mouth and suckling her nipple in a firm, steady rhythm.

"Oh," she panted. Her breathing became heavier and he felt her body tensing against his. "Yes..._yes_," she trailed off as her inner walls clenched around him in orgasm and her hips bounced erratically against his.

He grabbed her ass with both hands and pushed himself into her hard as she spasmed around him. She cried out one last time and he buried his face in her throat as his own orgasm ripped through him and he spilled into her.

They held each other, spent and trembling in each others arms, before he lowered them both back down onto the bed. She lay sprawled across his chest as their breathing slowed and the sweat dried from their skin. He shifted his body gently and grabbed the edge of the sheet, drawing it carefully over her shoulders.

"I love you," he mumbled drowsily as he pressed a light kiss against her temple.

"Mmm," she muttered quietly against his skin, already dozing off. "Love you, too."

He held her close against him and gently stroked his hand through her curls as he gradually softened inside of her. The morning sunlight danced across the soft cotton of their sheets and they slowly drifted to sleep tangled against each other.


	3. My Baby Makes Me Smile

She woke slowly, her eyes bleary with sleep and her muscles still deliciously tired; she gently rolled onto her back and discovered that she was alone in bed. After a quick glance around their bedroom, she discovered the bathroom was empty and the pajamas he'd been wearing earlier that morning were no longer on the floor. She quickly guessed that he'd woken with Cece and allowed her to sleep in.

She climbed out of bed and carefully stretched her back before pulling on her nightshirt and helping herself to a clean pair of boxer shorts and a pair of socks. Since the first few times that they'd been intimate, she'd continuously helped herself to his clothing; he'd teased her about it at first...saying that as soon as she had stolen his heart, she'd been bound and determined to steal everything else of his...but she knew that secretly he loved the intimacy of seeing her wrapped in his clothes. Besides, his t-shirts were so much softer than hers and she'd always found fabric softener and the lingering scent of his cologne to be a deadly sexy combination. After quickly brushing her teeth and pulling her hair into a messy bun, she made her way downstairs in search of her little family.

She found them in the small dining nook having breakfast: Jim was reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee while Cece bounced in her high chair, playing with...and occasionally munching on...a formidable pile of dry cheerios. Pam always worried that he gave her too much food but he argued that she took after her mother and could put away a disturbing amount every time she sat down to eat. And dammit if Cece didn't prove him right almost every single time. She'd been a Daddy's girl from day one and she showed no signs of changing her position on that.

Her socks made a soft, shuffling sound as she walked across the kitchen floor; his head turned in her direction but he kept his eyes on the paper.

"Morning, babe," he said.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed a wet kiss on his cheek, "Morning," she hummed.

"Sleep well?" he smirked.

"Mmm," she murmured, "I did. You?"

"Oh, _very _well," he teased. "It's amazing what a good night's sleep can do for you."

"And how about you, Sweet Pea?" she turned to her daughter, her voice instinctively rising. "How are you this morning?" Cece laughed and kicked her legs happily, enjoying the attention. "You did so well last night, baby girl," she praised. Cece's sleeping habits had greatly improved over the previous weeks but they were still spotty at best. Pam squeezed Cece's pajama covered foot in her hand as she struggled to shove an entire fist full of cheerios in her mouth. "Daddy and I are so proud of you! You've gotten so good at sleeping through the night."

"She must get that from you," he quipped.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she turned towards him, raising her eyebrow, "are you complaining that our daughter actually slept through the whole night?"

"No," he chuckled. "No, I'm really, _really _not. In fact," he looked towards her and his face softened, "If she got every single one of your traits, I'd be the happiest man in the world."

She drew a quick breath, momentarily startled by such a sweet remark. "Aww, babe...," she began.

"Expect maybe for your dance skills," he quickly amended, turning and refolding the page of his newspaper, "And your inability to drive in reserve. And your irrational fear of biscuit cans. But other than that...," he trailed off.

"Nice," she huffed, running her hand over Cece's head one last time, "Well, I'm just thankful she didn't get your nose."

"You and me both," he snorted.

She walked back into the kitchen and poured her own mug of coffee; while she contemplated the merits of toast versus cereal, she spotted the two certificates Jim had hastily left on the entrance way table.

"Did Michael say where this year's Dundies are being held?" she asked, as she poured a splash of creamer into her mug.

"Oh, I didn't ask," he answered quickly.

"Is it going to be black tie? He mentioned something the other day about it being formal." After a moment of silence, she glanced over to see a look of dismay on Jim's face.

"Umm...he didn't say," he stalled uncertainly.

"Did you ask?"

"If you'll remember, Pam, I was kind of in the middle of something when he and Deanglo dropped by this morning," he said pointedly. "Something _pretty _important. That I was very anxious to get back to. So, no...we didn't chat about the upcoming Dundies."

"Fine," she relented, "We have to go to mall this weekend anyway to get Cece an Easter outfit so I'll go ahead and look for a dress just in case."

"Sounds like a plan," he said, turning back to the article he'd been reading.

She took a seat across from him and cradled her coffee mug between her palms. "I wonder what award I'll get this year?" she mused.

"Fifty bucks says you get a Dundie for Office MILF," he deadpanned.

"Jim!" she cried. He glanced at her in alarm. "No dirty words in front of," she cocked her head to the side and nodded towards their daughter, "_you-know-who_."

"Pam," he said in a maddening deliberate tone, "'MILF' is not a dirty word. It's an acronym in which one of the initials represents a dirty word. The day Cece starts to break apart and analyze acronyms is the day I'll start to worry. Or be impressed. I haven't decided, yet."

"That may be true," she argued, "but I would still prefer it if our daughter didn't go around repeating that word."

"It's a losing battle," he stated, "with a mother as hot as you, she's bound to find out what that word means soon enough."

She shook her head softly and tried to conceal her smile. They sat together quietly as Jim read an article about finance reform and she sipped her coffee, occasionally shuffling through the discarded sections of the newspaper in a half-hearted attempted to locate the comics page.

"It'll be weird this year, won't it?" she asked softly.

"What will?" he asked.

"The Dundies."

"The Dundies are weird every year."

"Yeah, but I mean," she took a deep breath as a sudden wave of sadness hit her. "This will be the last Dundies ever. It's kind of sad."

"Well, we don't know that," he pointed out, "Michael's successor could decide to continue the tradition. Face it, Pam, we could be in for years..._decades_...worth of tasteless jokes, racial stereotyping and cheap appetizers."

"Even if the Dundies do go on, they won't be the Michael Scott Dundies," she argued sadly. She stared carefully at her coffee mug, "It'll never be the same again."

"Hey," he asked in a concerned voice, looking up from his paper. "You okay?"

She shrugged lightly. "I guess," she answered in a voice that was less than convincing, "It's just weird. Knowing that Michael's leaving in a few weeks. That he's going to be gone and he's not going to be our boss anymore. I've never thought about him _not_being there."

"Yeah," he agreed softly.

"Seriously...who would've thought that Michael Scott would leave Dunder Mifflin before we did?"

"You've got that right," he chuckled. "Personally, I always thought he'd be fired over some sort of harassment charge. Or from breaking the law. Or from never doing any work. Something along those lines," he shrugged.

"No, I'm serious," she said, her voice beginning to show frustration. "Michael has his moments but he's been a great friend to me."

"Hey, I'm just kidding, babe," he sat the newspaper on the table and leaned forward to touch her wrist. "I'm gonna miss him, too."

"You don't seem like it," she pouted.

"Come on, you know I am. Despite his intrusiveness, his incredibly lame sense of humor and his _ridiculously _bad timing," his voice softened, "Michael's a great guy. And everything he does, he does out of love. And I'm absolutely going to miss the hell out of him."

"I just keep thinking about this one day," she confessed quietly, "It was right after I called off my wedding and I was really sad...about a lot of things," her eyes dropped to the table momentarily, "and of course for the first few days Michael started every conversation with a runaway bride joke. But he brought in ice cream every single day for two weeks because he said ice cream was the best way to heal a broken heart."

"That sounds like Michael," he smiled fondly.

"But then one day," she whispered, her eyes on the table, "I was in the break room...the guy that stocks the vending machine had misplace one of the sodas and when I went to buy a coke, a grape soda came out instead." She grimaced at the memory, "And then I had this like...mini break down...and Michael happened to walk in at just that moment. I thought he was going to stage a big scene or make a joke about PMS but...he just put his hand on my shoulder and said, 'I know you miss him but I have a feeling it's not over for you two. True love always finds a way.' And I said, 'No, Michael. Roy and I won't be getting back together.' And he just smiled at me and said, 'I wasn't talking about Roy.' And then he walked out of the room." She took a deep breath, "I know it seems like such a small thing but it really meant something to me. That even though I'd been lying to myself for so long, there was someone else that just..._got it_. And he had faith in us. At a time when neither one of us did."

"I know what you mean," he said softly, "I've had moments like that, too."

"Yeah?"

He nodded his head slowly, his eyes clouded with memories, "Yeah, it was during this awful night when I thought I'd lost everything. And he told me it didn't matter. That I should never ever give up on what I wanted."

"And?" she asked quietly.

"And here I am," he smiled as he ran his thumb across her wedding band. "And I have everything I ever dreamed of."

"He's been a really good friend to us."

"He has," he agreed. "And it's going to hurt like hell to say goodbye to him and I'm going to miss him like crazy but...I just keep thinking about how happy he's going to be. He finally has Holly. The love of his life. The only woman in the world who is as much of a dork as he is. And when he moves to Colorado, he's going to have a family. A real family. Not one that leaves every day at 5:00pm and pretends not to be home on the weekends so they don't have to hang out with him."

She chuckled softly.

"Now it's Michael turn to have everything he's ever dreamed of," he said. "He's finally getting his own happy ending."

"Hah," she quipped. "That's what she said," she laughed softly, her voice shaky with unshed tears.

"There's my girl," he smiled. "Come here." He tugged her hand lightly as she stood and carefully made her way around the table. She settled onto his lap and rested her head against his shoulder as he lovingly wrapped his arms around her body. "I'm not sad for Michael," he finished softly, "because I know he's going to have what we have. And I couldn't wish anything better for him than that."


End file.
